May the Force of Everything Right and Fucked Up in This World Be With You (And Also With You)
I think of you in drawn out math equations.
I think of you in simple numbers because- letâs be real- I passed Junior Year math with a sixty-eight.
I suppose I love you in the way I love mathÂ
I fumble to add or divide
but the concepts (oh the Concepts! two plus two doesnât actually equal four?!)
these ideas that the thing that I canât do isnât actually being done right when understood at a scholarly level.
But you get Aâs in math and avoided number theory
(I know because I longed for the day you could come home and pillow talk with me about how two plus two and four didnât truly belong together)
I suppose the same way we didnât belong togetherâŠ
Instead, it has been years since weâve lived in the same town
and I still keep our rock near my window and in thinking of this my heart sinks becauseÂ
           âŠTwo plus TwoâŠ
and 12:34, the time on the clock when I light another cigarette and curse myself for cursing my sleeping nights and how will I ever read 90+ suggested readings? and Email my new professor and still read my books and finish those documentaries and pay my bills and GOD DAMNIT I still write about you and math in purple ink.
just like you love Pascal the Mathematician
and I love Pascal Le PenseurÂ
and that book is gone and my favorite word in all of the English language is AND
But Iâm writing, so itâs a startâŠ
And you graduate soon and donât speak to me, even though every day YOU still SPEAK to me.
Two galaxies and Four Lifetimes later.
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